


Ghosts in the Attic

by Moorishflower



Category: Fringe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-11
Updated: 2010-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:24:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moorishflower/pseuds/Moorishflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olivia can't sleep. It might be because of Peter...but it's probably because of Charlie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts in the Attic

  
Olivia can't sleep.

This isn't new. Ever since John died (_betrayed her_), she's had trouble sleeping. John's death had marked the beginning of a rapid series of changes in her life; of meeting Peter and Walter. Massive Dynamic. William Bell and Nina Sharp. Cortexiphan. The possibility of another world, similar but different, a place where there's no Peter Bishop, because that world's Peter is _here_. Charlie's death.

She lies awake at night and tries to think about this new world – will it be at all similar to hers? Will there be another Astrid, sweet and a little bit sad? Another Walter, as brilliant and mad as hers?

Another Charlie?

She's in the odd position of simultaneously being curious and not wanting to know…and she doesn't have a choice either way.

Olivia can't sleep. She almost doesn't want to, even though she knows that she needs to be rested by the time they make the jump to that other place.

She just…can't.

~

Olivia believes in ghosts the same way that she believes in monsters, and telepathy, and alternate universes – she didn't used to, but things have changed. _She_ has changed. It makes a bizarre sort of sense that the axis of the world has tipped along with her, especially considering what Walter is capable of. So yes, she believes in ghosts.

She believes in what she sees.

~

Olivia opens one eye. The left half of her face is pressed to her pillow – she isn't sure whether she drifted off or fell into unconsciousness. Both are an option. She can't remember the last time she had more than four hours of sleep at a time. She knows that Peter had the same problem, but he had been better at hiding it. Olivia isn't used to this. Running on fumes.

She rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Charlie," she whispers. She has to be quiet – she doesn't want to wake Rachel, or worse, Ella. Rachel will look at her with sympathy and will try to make her a cup of coffee, and Ella will ask uncomfortable questions. Olivia doesn't need to be reminded that she sometimes talks to a dead man while everyone else in the apartment is asleep.

_Things will turn out for the best,_ she can hear Charlie say. So clearly, in fact, that she sits up, tilting her head, listening. But there's nothing there. Not even the sigh of the wind outside. Everything is completely silent.

"Charlie?" she says again, a bit louder, now. She isn't sure why – she isn't even talking to a body. Charlie's nothing but ash, now, and yet here she is, still thinking about him. Still hearing his voice.

She closes her eyes and she can almost feel him, standing there.

"I don't know what to do," she says, keeping her eyes closed. The feeling is stronger, that way. She swallows against the lump in her throat. It might be sadness, or despair. "I'm scared. I don't want to go…over there. But I have to. Peter…"

Peter. She's beginning to realize that almost everything she does is inspired by Peter in some way. By his father. The Bishops have very nearly taken over Olivia's life, without her even noticing…or caring.

She can imagine what Charlie would say. Can almost hear him. _You've been trying to do the right thing. That's what matters._

"I don't know if it does, anymore," Olivia whispers.

_Of course it does. Trust me. You'll go over there and bring Peter back, and everything will be normal again. You'll be back to mutant insect larva and killer computer files in no time._

"I think that should be sad," Olivia sighs, "that 'mutant insect larva' has become normal for me." Her breath hitches. "I'm so sorry. I killed you."

_Hey. None of that. That thing you killed wasn't me…it just looked like me. And you couldn't have avoided it, anyways. It needed to be put down._

Olivia feels something brush against her cheek, soft and fleeting, like a feather or a piece of gauze. It's so tangible, so _there_ that she sits up straight, opening her eyes. There's something she can almost see, out of the corner of her eye – something quick and silver and then gone. Nothing. She's alone.

_You're gonna be fine,_ she hears. Or _thinks_ she hears. Olivia remains sitting up for several minutes, trying to figure out if it's one or the other, but she can't. She's so tired. And Charlie…or her mental version of Charlie…is right. She'll go after Peter, despite her fear of that other place, because it's the right thing to do. Because Peter is her friend.

Because Charlie would want her to.

She flips her pillow over to the cool side, and then lies back down.

She falls asleep without even realizing it.


End file.
